Assassin
by Jean-Claude Iscarot
Summary: Kagome is a killer. R for a reason folks, not for the light hearted.


Assassin-DOG-SEJR  
  
Warning- This story shall be dark. It is rated R for a reason  
folks, and I cant say that I didn't warn you. If you, for some unknown and unimaginable reason, actually like this story, be warned. I will not update this story often, I'm going to write it only when I either: A- Have a good idea for the story (which  
I highly doubt, as most of my energy is being put into my other Inu-Yasha story). Or B-I'm in a really bleak, angsty, pissed- off mood, or I just need to rant about something. So be warned, The character's ramblings and thoughts, more often than not, are  
my own in origin. If you don't like them, then fuck off  
asshole.  
  
Disclaimer- I do not own anything related to Inu-Yasha or Jhonen  
"Jiggy" Vasquez's JTHM or Squee! Series. If you want to think  
otherwise, bite me biotch!  
  
"Oh, My God! Somebody put shit in my pants!!!!!!!"- some guy who  
Devi D. attempted (attempted being the key word!) to have a relationship with (poor stupid little girl). Meanwhile... 2 of 9 in Squee's Wonderful Big Giant Book of Unspeakable Horrors, New and  
Improved Edition. Sixth Printing.  
  
My prey is on the move. A fat man, must be wealthy. Must own a few businesses as well. This, I don't care for. He is my target, so he will die.  
  
"Mr. Nawamoto?"  
  
"Yes?" replies the fat man, he's getting impatient. Good.  
  
"My name is les Mort. Prepare to die."  
  
He pales at that. Good. He's is trying to get his guards to attack me, but they have already run away. They must know my name as well. Good.  
  
My name. Les Mort. Near death. How far I have come from the idiot I once was. My training has paid off. How many years has it been? Two? Three? It doesn't really matter to me now. Time is not important to me.  
  
My family. That is what is important to me. The Higurashi clan has much history behind it. A past member was an emperor. Another was a miko. And yet another was a tavern whore. My family has a long and outstanding history. I am glad to be part of it. At last.  
  
I first learned of my extensive family history when my father decided to take me. My father. I savor these words, as I have only known him personally for a few years at best. You see, I had heard of him, but I had never met him. Shizuma Higurashi, my father, is the biggest Yakuza boss in Japan. He rules the underground with an iron fist, no one dares to cross him. Not even me. He took me in when I was six-teen, literally kidnapping me from my mothers house. He didn't care, he never does. He just wanted his flesh and blood to be close by him. You see, my father believes in handing "the business" down to me when he dies. The business being his Yakuza empire. I'm anxious for that day, but I will not let it come sooner than it has to.  
  
He trained me, my father did. To be the perfect killer. You see, my father has many enemies. They must be dealt with. He trained me to kill, to torture, to use every resource at my disposal to get the objective. And I did. My first kill was a business rival of his. He needed to be eliminated, and father thought that this was the best way to test me. To see if had learned what to do. And I did. I had to get close to the man for a clean kill. The best way, at least in my eyes, was to go as a prostitute. Let him fuck me all he wants, it will only make his death more sweeter. And it was, it was fun to castrate him, to slam a dagger into his body again and again, to beat his head in with a chair over and over again. It was gruesome, but I had fun. My father was proud. He said that I had learned my lessons well, that I had become a perfect killer for him. I was happy when he said that, nothing matters more to me now than my fathers happiness.  
  
I have regrets, but who doesn't? I regret having to kill people, but I must do it. I regret ever leaving my family, but I had no say in the matter. But my biggest regret will always be never finishing the jewel. Never saying goodbye to some of my bestest friends. Never saying goodbye to my son. I regret all of that. But what can I do? My father knows about the well, and where it leads. He always keeps a watch on it, just to make sure that I don't go down the well. I wont try, I never will. I have become to distant from what I once was to ever go down the well. I also have no way to go down. I through the jewel into the well years ago. To make sure that I never went back.  
  
My prey is dead. He no longer has a face, I ripped it off. He no longer has a dick, I cut that off. No eyes, those are my trophy's. No arms or legs, my sword. I leave a black rose, my call sign, in his ripped open gut. I leave.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I need a shower. I nice hot shower. Maybe a bath. A bath, yes.. A bath with pink bubbles. I'm addicted to pink bubble baths. I should see a shrink. But I would only force them to see a shrink as well. Whatever. Mmmmmmm. That feels good, the hot water. I shall bliss now.  
  
Enough blissing, I must give a report on my mission to father. He's a stickler when it comes to paper work, I hate it. O well, cant be helped. But I'll wait, I need to relax.  
  
I need something to read. Hmmm, ahh yes. JTHM. Haven't read that in a while. I like reading NNY's Die-ary entries. My favorite one of them all, "Dear Diary, Today I stuffed some dolls full of dead rats that I put in the blender. I'm wondering if, maybe, there really is something wrong with me." I always laugh after I read that line. No, no laugh. I cant laugh. My life has made it impossible for me to laugh. Sigh. This sucks.  
  
I need it. Now. My fix, my fix is what I need. What fix you ask? Well, my heroin fix of course. I need the stuff, Its my addiction. I got hooked after father took me away from mama. It helped deal with the depression that I had. I never stopped, even after the depression went away. Because, when I go a long time without my fix, I get depressed again.  
  
I hate depression. I hate Goths. Idiots they are, deal with your fucking life like everyone else does. Keep it bottled up inside so you have an excuse when you kill someone. Goths. They wear there unhappiness on their sleeves. They think that it makes them cool to do that. I've never killed an innocent, except for Goths. I hate them so much. I lost control one day, a Goth was walking in front of me. I got pissed at him, cant remember why but whatever, and I pulled him into an ally. He thought I was going to fuck him, please. Like I'd want to fuck that skinny piece of shit? He touched me, I cut off his dick. He tried to scream, I sliced out his tongue. I went on, cutting and slashing, until I had only the head left. I removed the eyes by popping them out of their sockets. I put them in a glass jar that I always carry with me for such things. I chopped his head in half. Blood, brains, and guts were everywhere. I heard sirens, people screaming. I guess someone took a peak in the ally and decided to play hero. I hate hero's. It doesn't matter now, I had fun.  
  
The memory makes me happy on the inside, I feel wet. I look down...Interesting. I like it when I get happy. I like it when I get so happy, that I have an orgasm. I'll have to keep that wonderful memory in my head, incase I need to release some pent up anger. Whoot.  
  
My name, les mort. Near death. Kagome Higurashi.  
  
I need another bath. 


End file.
